Free Fast Break by Regina Hart Page B

can’t guarantee her a winning season.”
    â€œDid Jackie ask for a guarantee?”
    â€œ No.”
    â€œIf you take the job, do your best. That’s all anyone can expect from you and all you can expect of yourself.”
    DeMarcus’s chuckle was dry. He perched on the edge of the bay window’s shelf. “I remember that lecture from my years at basketball summer camp. You and Mom gave me some version of that speech before every game.”
    Julian put the novel on the small table between the two armchairs and settled further into the overstuffed brown cushions. “The philosophy was right then, and it’s right now.”
    â€œBut Jack needs a winning season.”
    Julian cocked his head. “That responsibility wouldn’t be just on you. It’s on the entire coaching staff, the players and the front office.”
    â€œThat’s what I told her.” DeMarcus straightened off the window shelf. He propped his hands on his hips and studied the gleaming hardwood floor. “I can coach her team, but she has to keep Gerry and Bert out of trouble.”
    â€œCan she?”
    DeMarcus looked up. He couldn’t read Julian’s expression. He had a lot riding on this decision. Whatever he chose to do, he didn’t want the outcome to reflect badly on his family’s name. “I don’t know. What should I do?”
    Julian arched a brow. “If you decide to coach the Monarchs, you’ll give the team your best effort. But no one could blame you if you decide not to. The front office is in disarray.”
    â€œJack called it dysfunctional.”
    â€œThat, too.”
    â€œI wish I knew whether we could win.” DeMarcus sighed. “The Monarchs have taken all the losing they can stand. It’s time to put up some W ’s.”
    â€œSometimes winning isn’t determined on the scoreboard.”
    DeMarcus’s brows knitted. His father was doing his Star Wars Obi-Wan Kenobe impersonation again. “What does that mean?”
    â€œAs far as the community is concerned, a winning season means the Monarchs stay in Brooklyn.”
    DeMarcus blew out a breath. “I can’t guarantee that, either.”
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    Jaclyn rubbed her eyes. That annoying noise was her cell phone ringing beside her. She checked the clock on her home laptop. It was almost ten o’clock at night. Who was that? She saved the client summary she was drafting and picked up the phone. She didn’t recognize the number. Great. “Hello?”
    â€œJack, it’s Marc Guinn. I hope I’m not calling too late.”
    Her mind spun, trying to anticipate the reason for his call. Had she left something in his car? At his home, perhaps? And why was he calling her Jack? “It’s not too late. What can I do for you?”
    A heavy sigh. “I’ll coach the Monarchs, but on one condition.”
    Her grip tightened around the slim, black metal phone. “What’s that?”
    â€œI want a one-year contract. At the end of the year, we’ll reevaluate the situation and decide whether we want to continue the agreement.”
    Jaclyn wanted to do back flips across her cramped and cluttered home office. Instead, she swallowed a primeval scream of victory and responded with admirable calm. “That’s fair.”
    She closed the client summary—it could wait—and opened the electronic file of DeMarcus’s employment contract. “I’ll e-mail the new contract language to you in the morning. If you still agree to the terms, Gerry, Bert and I will sign it tomorrow.”
    â€œFine. Then I’ll be in the office Wednesday.” His tone was resolute, determined. Sexy.
    Jaclyn hesitated. “That’s tomorrow. You don’t want to wait until you get the revised contract?”
    â€œI don’t have time to wait. Preseason starts in twelve days, October fourth.”
    Jaclyn wanted to pump her fist. The team had a